


Comin' At My Friends Like a Missile

by reconditarmonia



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Homophobia, Las Vegas Aces, Nonnies Made Me Do It, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 07:05:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20271910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reconditarmonia/pseuds/reconditarmonia
Summary: Parse drops gloves with a teammate over Jack Zimmermann. Swoops's POV on the fallout.





	Comin' At My Friends Like a Missile

**Author's Note:**

> If it matters - this fic doesn't mention Bitty at all and is not about Jack having moved on from Kent, but it also doesn't concretely suggest (or rule out) a more-than-friendly reconciliation in future.
> 
> Thanks to 19hockey26 and plumedy for beta on hockey culture and Russian ESL aspects respectively!
> 
> Aces OCs are free to a good home. Let me know if you want to know anything about them.

In a way, it's not the first time something within thirty miles of this has happened — every rookie who's ever done something he doesn't realize is dumb or said something off-limits remembers the check he got from a veteran teammate to tell him not to do that, and not always a nice friendly one either, depending. But when they're all waiting in the hallway to go on the ice and Swoops sees Kent, ahead of him, shove a teammate, hard, it's not one of the rookies, and he doesn't stop there — he's throwing down his gloves and punching the guy, someone who's possibly been playing hockey for longer than Kent's had facial hair. This really isn't Kent's forte, but it's very much Tovo's, and the only reason Kent isn't coming off worse is that Tovo seems to have no idea why they're fighting and is managing to hold him at arm's length.

It's broken up pretty soon — trying to brawl when you're packed in next to a bunch of enforcers will do that, Swoops figures — and if anyone can storm on skates, Kent storms out onto the ice, amid a sea of confused sound from the stands as everyone with a Twitter account finds out about the fight from whatever goddamn fucking hack reporter was in the hall. Swoops isn't dumb enough to leave his position to find out what's going on. The captain can take care of himself for a couple of minutes, contrary to appearances sometimes, and he'd be mad if Swoops left the team with a hole in their defense for that, especially against the Falconers.

He asks after, once Kent's proved with a ridiculous long-shot goal to widen their lead thirty seconds before the buzzer that he's not off his personal game tonight, and done a decent job leading the team to get there. They're in a quiet bar by themselves; in spite of the victory, everyone seemed to silently agree that a team outing that put Parser and Tovo together wasn't going to happen.

Kent shrugs. "You remember the end of the Cup last year, right?"

Obviously Swoops does, it's his job to remember how teams they're up against play. They'd watched some of that tape together. But then the look on Kent's face makes Swoops realize that he's talking about the kiss. The one that had precipitated what seemed like hundreds of interviews, unavoidable team conversations. From Kent's expression, he remembers the kiss itself in a lot more detail than Swoops does. "Yeah?"

"Tovo said some dumb shit about what Zimmermann could do on the ice." As though that's enough of an explanation; most of the captain's noted cool is back, just a little worn. At first Swoops doesn't even get it, but he must have a confused look on his face because Kent looks back like he's daring him to ask for more detail. He doesn't. He gets it.

"You could have tipped off Mashkov, if you had to," Swoops says instead. "The Falcs care about that kind of thing."

"Nah. Mashkov can come after Tovo if he plays dirty, like a normal fucking human being. This is my job." 

"_Parson_. You're our captain, fighting our guys is the opposite of your job."

"You don't know everything, Jeff." Kent raises an eyebrow and takes a drink of his beer. "Anyway, it's my job to keep my guys in line, isn't it? Just because Tovo's not tripping over his own skates doesn't mean he's not a dumbass, it's bad play."

Swoops doesn't find this explanation very convincing, after Kent's first reaction. "Hitting him was a little over-the-top, though. I'm sure he meant well, everyone knows about your whole rivalry with Zimmermann."

"Oh, I was supposed to think it was funny? Like it was for my benefit?"

"Well...yeah? Come on, it's trash talk. A chilled captain is a skilled captain." He only thinks of this in the moment but he's pretty proud of it.

Kent smiles and it's not amused at all. Swoops has seen that look on the ice, or occasionally in interviews, and it's never a sign of anything good so he's really glad he didn't say any of the other things that came to mind, about Zimmermann. "Trash talk is chirping you for your face cage and how you're too slow getting to the action to need it. Not what Tovo said."

Swoops winces, because it's true and the captain's been on him about that last part before, but for the sake of form he replies, "Damn, low blow, man."

"You think?" Right, that was a fair hit, in comparison.

Swoops raises his hands. "All right, all right. Tovo's a dumb fuck, this has nothing to do with Zimmermann's game." He thinks for a moment, then adds hastily, "But it also doesn't _not_ have to do with his game, I mean — I don't know." He's trying to clarify that he wasn't saying _he doesn't play like a fag_, because he's getting the distinct impression that actually articulating that wouldn't help.

Kent cuts him off. "I get it." He doesn't look like everything's okay, but Swoops always likes when the captain recognizes that he's trying his best. "Look — I know I lost my head. But I'd probably do it again. We wouldn't even _be_ rivals now if we hadn't been so fucking good together back in Juniors — you think, I don't know, _Jed Barre_ gets interviews about what it's going to be like to face me when we're at Dallas? I don't know if you'll believe this, Swoops," (Swoops does, he knows this story already, but Kent's doing his thing) "but your rich and famous leader was once a broke-ass kid in the Q. Shitty gear, shitty toys. Zimmermann picked a fight for me, over that — someone on our team that time, too."

This part, Swoops didn't know.

"And yeah, not everyone's Tovo." Swoops agrees, not all of them would say— "Jank would definitely punch me back. Tanzer too. So if you guys like my pretty face" — Kent grins, and now it's definitely his ice face — "don't start that kind of shit."

The next morning, the press that management kept off Kent immediately post-game descends shrieking. Swoops assumes that PR's met with him to make sure he says something defusing, whatever he's told them about the fight, but it might not have been necessary: the Kent in front of the cameras is, if possible, more opaque than usual. "Nothing important," Kent says to one reporter. "We're doing fine as a team, I don't know if you noticed that play from..." to another. "No, nothing's changing in our lineup." "No, I'll be out there tomorrow." Some of the other Aces get a couple of questions, but it's pretty clear that they honestly have no idea what started it — whatever captainly warning might be in the pipeline hasn't gotten to them yet — so the reporters leave off. Swoops is relieved he doesn't get asked. The headlines speculate but there's not a lot to run with; even knowing what went down, Swoops can't get any of it out of the soundbites. Nothing about it in the Falcs press, which Swoops guesses makes sense, if no one else knows. Zimmermann had better be fucking grateful that the Aces are taking all the heat here. 

It's fucking Tovo of all people who spills the beans when they get him in front of a mic after a good play he makes against Edmonton the next day. Swoops doesn't know if he's actually decided to come clean or if his dumbass brain just hasn't been able to hold on to whatever PR told him to say if it came up, but he blinks for a moment while he gets on the right track (and Swoops waits with bated breath to see where this is going to go) and says, "Uh. Yeah, I, uh. I made joke about Jack Zimmermann that the captain didn't like." And that seems like the end of it for a brief shining moment before Tovo continues, "About our game, I said it would be okay if Falconers got fucked in the ass since Zimmermann likes it anyway," and the press goes crazy.

Jesus fucking christ, he's dumb.

Swoops does the only thing he can think to do in the situation, which is to grab Tanzer so that both of them can intercept Kent. Swoops is bigger than Kent, but not that much bigger or heavier, and Kent is incandescent with rage; Tanzer's a big guy though and between the two of them they manage to sit him down. PR is also doing damage control and getting the reporters out, and by the time the smoke has cleared, Tovo's gone too — probably whisked straight off to management, poor bastard.

"You've gotta stop doing this, Parser," says Tanzer.

"I wasn't going to hit him this time," Kent says. He's breathing in and out slowly and heavily. "Not really sure what I was gonna do, to be honest."

"He didn't mean it. Even if he meant it last time, I know, you said he shouldn't have thought you'd think it was funny, I think he was telling the press what he said that made you go for him," Swoops offers. "Like you said. Tovo's a dumb fuck."

"That's not the point, asshole," and what has Swoops done to deserve that? "I know he wasn't saying it again just to rile me up." Kent's focusing somewhere in the middle distance, and Swoops meets Tanzer's eyes over his head. Tanzer mouths _what's the big deal, though?_ and Swoops glares at him before he can say it out loud and get punched himself. What can he say, he's got his captain's and teammates' backs.

"The point is that now everyone knows that's why. I've gotta send PR some flowers, honestly, they do a hard job." Kent looks very frayed, and it's actually kind of heartwarming, Swoops thinks, that he and Tanzer are allowed to see that. "And Zimmermann's gonna think it's chivalrous or some shit like that."

"It kind of is," says Tanzer, who doesn't know what Kent told Swoops the other night. "Our captain defending the, people and shit," because maybe he has enough sense not to end the sentence differently.

"Sure. Yeah," says Kent, standing up. "I'll see if I can play it that way for the cameras, then."

Now that it's out there, the whole team gets the line laid down from management. Swoops has kind of been wondering what it's going to be, honestly — whether it'll be damage control "we don't approve of vulgarity from our players and it was a one-off mistake,'' the kind of thing that's obviously fake when everyone's a motherfucker even if it's against the rules, to say nothing of what the foreign players get away with. So they gather the next morning in front of an AGM with a venti coffee in one hand and a clipboard in the other — Kent's not there, Swoops figures he's already had the much longer meeting, whatever it is.

It's not the vulgarity. Someone in the back office must have crunched the numbers and decided that it was worth it to them to come out with something stronger, because the new line is that the Aces love good sportsmanship, don't tolerate homophobic remarks either in the game or in the locker room, and appreciate the support of their LGBT fans. Which is actually more of a statement than the Falconers made, but Swoops guesses they didn't really need to make a statement.

So that's it. On the surface, anyway. "Oooh, better watch your mouth, Hutch," says Jank, checking him into a wall.

"Oh, or you're gonna report me? Gonna tattle?"

"Vegas, man," says Carly. "Should have guessed. It's just never gonna be a hockey town."

Swoops doesn't say anything. How hard could it be? He does his share of trash talk, but he's more original than that. Anyway, things probably aren't going to change much as long as no one makes a big deal about it, or gets caught on camera. Or, right, pisses off the captain, or tells a joke directly to a whole bunch of reporters.

And there's the thing where the press have their eye on bigger fish than some random Ace right now. Kent and Tovo rejoin the team at practice, but it's practice, so Swoops doesn't get to talk to them much until after. The captain's busy, and Swoops skates over to Tovo. "How's it feel, being the new face of the franchise?"

Tovo grimaces. "I didn't ask for this. PR wrote apology, I have to memorize it. They said a guideline is not enough this time." Poor sorry bastard. Still, if management thinks he'll have his hands full with the apology, at least they're not making him the spokesman for the new policy. That'd be a hard sell. So maybe that's what had the captain tied up all morning.

"You got this, man. You say your thing and then you can go back to kicking Oiler ass. They have you doing a whole presser about it, or do you just say it the first time someone asks?"

"It's not suit and tie presser. If I memorized it fast enough it's post-practice interview now, before Parser's presser later, but I can't, so tomorrow after the game. Maybe I score a hat trick and they ask me most about that."

"Jeez, they're really serious about this," says Swoops.

"Yeah. For one fucking joke, I even didn't say anything to Zimmermann. Good thing the captain is small and he can't hurt me, right?"

"True. I don't know what we'd do without you, Tovo."

Swoops manages to get over to Kent in the locker room. "So, I heard from Tovo you've got a big suit and tie show later."

"Yup," says Kent. "You Can Play's got me cornered. It's apparently really important for me not to look like an unhinged asshole, for some reason."

Privately Swoops thinks he might still look like an unhinged asshole, but at least they're all agreeing to pretend it's about management's new conscience. After all, not everyone knows that Kent's returning a favor to his old teammate, even now that they're rivals. Swoops gets it — just because Kent will never hesitate to steal a puck from Zimmermann now doesn't mean that all that history just went away. "What do they have you saying?"

"I mean, you all got the new policy earlier. The sportsmanship, how it's not okay to say that shit on the ice or off it, and oh yeah, come see an Aces game while you're in Vegas for your double bachelor party. Plus Zimmermann was really brave for coming out, and we don't want to discourage other athletes like him by giving them more to worry about than playing the best field of opponents in the world. The Aces, officially, don't want that."

"So you'll get to punch people when they fuck up, officially."

"Yeah, you know, I always secretly wanted to be an enforcer. Gotta start local, though."

"Yeah, get some practice in a safe and welcoming environment."

Kent makes a face. "To be honest, the usual script is how I'd be 100% standing by a gay teammate. We're not exactly famous for being sportsmanlike to the other guy in general."

"Ah, yeah, I guess? But, I mean, I'd hit a guy, I'll hassle someone, it doesn't mean I'd call him a cocksucker like _that_." Swoops pauses. "Would you? Be okay playing with a gay guy."

Kent looks at him blankly. "Obviously, yes, Swoops, Jesus fucking Christ!"

"Sorry, sorry." Right, he deserved that. Maybe Kent knew about Zimmermann back in Juniors, even.

"I wouldn't lie about that."

Swoops thinks about that later and it's fair. Kent's never been a media hound — it's always about the game. Just because it took him fighting a guy for them to be able to back him into a corner to do the whole pain-in-the-ass song-and-dance doesn't mean he doesn't believe it.

Swoops has his own community stuff to do later in the day — his agent set him up with the same children's charity as some of the Clippers players, which is pretty awesome — so he doesn't catch Kent's press conference until after on Deadspin. There's the captain looking like a different person, as usual, in his suit and tie. Press Kent isn't really that similar to ice Kent except when someone's needling him, and no one seems sure enough what to make of this development to needle him very hard when they get to the questions part. It's the same bland deflection as before — "Yes, the team's on board with this, it's important to all of us." "I don't know if they'll follow our lead, but I hope so." "No, I don't think there will be a repeat of the other night." That one's probably supposed to be needle-y, but Swoops thinks Kent means that nobody's going to pick on Zimmermann after that incident, not that he wouldn't go for them if they did.

Deadspin helpfully suggests that he might also want to see Zimmermann get interviewed after the Falconers' game against the Panthers that evening. Sure, why not — anyone who's just had a hatty against Luongo is worth hearing out. And he's not gonna lie, he's a little curious about whether Zimmermann has anything to say about the whole thing that's going on with the Aces, now that the entire world knows.

He gets his wish — there's the usual back and forth about the game and the team, which probably helps make sense of everything for the fans but which is boring as fuck from Zimmermann because as far as Swoops can tell, it's not a veneer for the press, he's actually like that. And then someone off-camera must ask about Tovo's interview, because Zimmermann visibly takes a couple of seconds to reboot. "Pardon?" Something inaudible that must be clarification — Swoops makes out "Aces" and "fight." "Yes, I heard about it."

Clearer this time, "What did you think?" Like he's supposed to comment on Tovo's shitty joke.

"Well, euh, it was very chivalrous of Parson." Damn, just like Kent said. Swoops can't really blame him for changing the subject a little though. "I hope he didn't get in too much hot water over it."

Whoever it is won't let up. "Kent Parson dropped gloves with Sergei Perevyortov to defend you. Do you know why?" Jesus, who the fuck is this guy?

"We were teammates in Juniors. He's very loyal." Zimmermann does some setting thing with his face that must be something they teach at Rimouski; Swoops probably wouldn't recognize it if he hadn't seen Kent do it. "I had a thing for him back then, but he's straight, you know. Pretty dumb of me, right?"

Shit, Swoops wonders if Kent knew that.

He's having a late dinner with a couple of the guys when Kent joins them. Swoops isn't really sure how to sensitively raise the subject of "turns out your best bro from Juniors was gay for you the whole time," but he doesn't have to, because Hutch does, not sensitively. "Yo, Parser! Your boyfriend was on TV!"

"Shut it, Hutch,'' says Kent suddenly, viciously.

Swoops hurries to explain, now that there's nothing else for it. "They interviewed Zimmermann after the Falcs game tonight. Mostly about the game — but someone asked about your — He, uh," by now he's dug out his phone so he can just show Kent the video.

Kent grabs it from him, not bothering to sit down, as Zimmermann's voice comes out of the phone. _We were teammates in Juniors. He's very loyal. I had a thing for him back then, but he's straight, you know. Pretty dumb of me, right?_

Kent's expression does something indescribable. So he didn't know, then. There's a low whistle from Carly, at the far end of the table. "Damn, Hutch. You could have broken it to him gently, it ain't easy to learn that your liney's been checking out your ass."

"It's like you're not even trying, Carly," says Swoops, surprising himself.

That gets a big whoop from the rest of the table. "Lazy fuck!" says Tanzer, who, outside of times when Swoops is directly supervising him, probably has no room to talk.

"Damn, Swoops!"

"Miss Goody Two Shoes over here," growls Carly. But it seems to have been the right thing to say, since at least for the moment everyone's happy to chirp Carly, and him, instead. Kent pulls up a chair in the corner, and the conversation eventually turns back to stuff that isn't Jack Zimmermann.

They're heading out, and Swoops sees Kent pull Perry aside. "You have St. Martin's number, right? Your whole weird Quebecois club."

"Yep." Perry digs out his phone and starts typing. "For Zimmermann?"

"How'dja guess," says Kent.

"Well, he owes you some kind of heart-to-heart, even just to apologize for bringing the media right down on your back again,'' says Perry.

"Something like that, yeah."

Swoops thinks it's his actual teammates who are more owed the heart-to-heart — probably none of them wants to sit down and talk about the captain's feelings, or their feelings about the captain's feelings, but it's the principle of the thing, especially for Tovo — but he can see why Kent would want to talk to Zimmermann in light of all this stuff. Whether it's to chew him out for another round of press questions, or for retroactively making their whole Juniors experience weird, or hey, maybe to apologize for kind of starting this. Or just to reconnect with an old teammate who'd done the same for him, once.

Perry's not wrong about how the press leaps on Zimmermann's statement. There's their game tape from Rimouski up the next morning, social media photos from before people knew about locking that down. It checks out, Swoops guesses. Not that he's invested in this now. Out of the players themselves the reporters can't get anything interesting. Zimmermann and Kent both stonewall (Zimmermann doesn't think there's anything more to add, he says, and Kent, who Swoops would bet is getting stuck with a response so he doesn't nosedive the whole new policy by looking uncomfortable, is officially flattered but wants to focus on the present) but Carly gets himself a headline on Deadspin for "not caring about Jack Zimmermann's fuckin' sex life."

Chopper angrily suggests that Zimmermann brought it up to wig Kent out, but no one asks him, and Swoops doesn't think that Zimmermann or the Falconers have enough love for the Bruins to try and fuck the Aces up before that game. Tovo's just glad that there's already something that's going to overshadow his apology interview later.

He's not sure if Kent's contacted Zimmermann; between team breakfast, morning skate, and meetings, they've all been together most of the morning. It's not like it takes long to send a text, but Kent seems to have been using his free minutes to catch up on the media the same way Swoops has, since when Swoops catches up to him on the way out, he says, frustrated-sounding, "No one gives a fuck about hockey today, do they?"

"Your...Zimmermann and you is hockey, sort of?"

Kent smiles a bit. "Yeah. Best of the best hockey." And sure, that'd override a lot of other things. Swoops thinks he'd miss it too, even with everything else. He's about to say something about how he hopes it goes well when Kent talks to Zimmermann, but then remembers he might not be supposed to know about that. "But I'd still rather talk about how we're going to beat the shit out of Boston later," Kent adds, anyway.

"You know none of us like this tabloid shit any more than you do, right? The guys'll chirp you but we're still the Aces, it's not like Zimmermann being gay for you'll affect our game. Don't let them get in your head."

"Don't worry about me, Jeff," says Kent, looking like someone who definitely doesn't need to worry about anyone else being in his head on the ice. Swoops feels like he's said something wrong, but he's not sure what. "I'll take care of my head, you all just watch my back so I can give the press something else to talk about."

It's a pretty brutal game. Swoops can feel it from before the first puck drop. Both they and the Bruins are in and out of the sin bin for the whole first period, and then Coach tears them a new asshole during intermission for taking stupid penalties, so when Boston lands a few more nasty hits in the second — even Scraps is sucking on a bloody lip, and Swoops thinks that wearing a face cage isn't the dumbest thing in the world — the Aces are out for blood that they're not allowed to take, and they're tense as fuck. Perry's already tried and failed to stop Boston from getting two in on power plays in the first, and they're not giving an inch of ice even on the penalty kill, so the Aces are clawing back every one like they're in a fucking war zone.

Then Swoops somehow ends up past the Bruins defense and a puck comes his way from Hutch over to the right, and it's not like he never ends up in scoring range (he does all right for his position, he'd say) but it's usually not a surprise when he does. He doesn't even think. Whacks it, a one-timer, and scores a lucky shot off the post. He's already hauling ass after the puck in case he's missed, so he turns it into a victory lap, the goal horn and "Ace of Spades" ringing in his ears as the home crowd finally gets to make some noise. _The only thing you see, you know it's gonna be the ace of spades..._

They're still one down, and he can hear Bergeron yelling at his team to stay out of the penalty box, so it's not over yet. Now everyone's itching for some kind of confrontation; the guys on the benches might be taking it out on each other, hell, for all he knows there's a fight in the stands, but on the ice everything they've got is focused on finding an opening so there's not much more sound than skates on the ice, sticks on the puck, and calls from one player to another. Kent ends up dodging about three guys separately and tying it up right near the end of the period, and before the crowd's roar has died down Boston sinks another one right at the buzzer. That gets cheers too. Fucking tourists.

So the second intermission isn't quite the breather that it could have been, with the Aces still one goal short of a tie. Scraps tries to congratulate Kent on his goal, but Kent waves him off. "Not like it'll fucking matter unless it comes down to points for the playoffs, and it won't. Where were all of you out there? Jank, where were you? You can't just be looking out for the pass, guys! The tunnel vision thing? Not going to get us a win here if you're only thinking about going for a guy when he's got the puck. I need you in the corners, I need you hassling them. Come on! We've wiped the floor with better teams than them."

Swoops thinks Kent might be underselling the Bruins a little, but he's not technically wrong. And yeah, they've had some A+ passes, but not much in the way of a big team push towards the goal. Tanzer calls out, re-taping next to him, "You mean we need to do our actual jobs, captain?"

"Damn straight."

It's still a tough third period. They and the Bruins both manage to keep themselves out of the box, but only by putting all the fight into some vicious plays instead. Swoops gets checked hard on a run up the ice, and Jank pays it back harder before sending the puck over to Tanzer, who sends it to Kent. Swoops and Tanzer are already moving up to draw out the Boston defense, and Kent narrowly avoids another player in white and yellow to pass to Hutch. Hutch shoots. Rask saves. Kent's already shouting encouragement, and Tanzer takes out the forward that Rask gets the puck to so that Hutch can get another try. This one goes in, and they're tied.

Swoops is still a little dazed from the hit, so Carly comes in for him with a couple minutes left on the clock and almost immediately ends up in a crowd of players. Perry's yelling from the back, and Kent bursts out with the puck headed for the Bruins goal. There's a wall of sound, screaming and stomping, coming from the stands. Jank goes for one D-man. Tovo's racing up the other wing, gets Kent's pass, sends it to Hutch as Carly takes out the other D. Hutch hangs onto it just long enough for Kent to get to position, then hits the puck right before a Boston player barrels into him. Kent picks up the pass from Tovo, fakes, and sends a perfect shot into the upper corner of the net. Then he's in a mass of black jerseys — the Aces on the bench are all standing too, and Swoops can hear him, "I love you guys, I fucking love you guys!"

After a match like that — 4-3 Aces at the final buzzer, an impossible magic save from Perry in the last two minutes — it's a hell of a night out. Most of Vegas doesn't care, but the sports bars do. Swoops loses track of how many selfies he's in. Some of them are general Aces fans, some are tourists who maybe follow hockey and maybe just realize they're celebrities when they see other people going for it, but he's got fans who wear his jersey, too. One of them even buys him a beer. Her boyfriend, who's got Kent's jersey, ribs her for it, and he clinks his glass to hers before downing it. It's not his first of the night, or his last. You'd think it was a more important game than it was — maybe everyone needed a win after all the weirdness of the past few days.

Around two, when most of the locals have headed home on a weeknight even if they're die-hard fans, someone (Swoops isn't sure; could just be some kind of group will that overrides the guys who want to stay in the bar) corrals them all into going to the casino, where some of them just keep drinking and Swoops, Kent, Tovo, and Carly make stupid side bets at the blackjack table. Tovo wins a test drive in Kent's fancy car. Carly tries to put up some of his trading cards, but Swoops deems him too drunk, and Kent deems the bet not stupid enough, so Swoops wins Carly cooking him lunch. Carly's not a good cook so it's worth a lot less than the trading cards, but Carly will hate it, and that's the point. Then Swoops blows the next hand and Tovo, who has no investment in any other American sport, makes him promise to get photographed wearing a Lakers cap. "I'm avenging Carly," he explains. "At least it's not jersey, so you don't have to pick a player."

Swoops has the special talent of looking sober enough to keep getting served drinks long after he's too wasted to get himself home, so he wakes up on Kent's couch the next morning with a crashing headache and no memory of getting there. Kent's apartment has huge stupid windows and the asshole couldn't even leave him a glass of water, much less an aspirin, but Swoops has been there before, so he gets out a glass, fills it at the sink, drains it and refills it before staggering down the hall to the bathroom. He hopes Kent doesn't mind him checking the medicine cabinet.

There's a sound in the apartment that's making his head throb. He tries to walk quieter but it keeps going. Then he realizes it's Kent talking. And probably not to him, because if Kent were talking to Swoops from another room he would be yelling, and it would be worse.

"You've changed yours, though," Kent is saying. "I had to get it from St. Martin."

Swoops realizes it's Zimmermann. Finally. Kent pauses for a while, so Zimmermann's probably saying something, and Swoops finds himself wondering what. _Now we're even_, or _I'm sorry you had to find out this way_. When did he get so invested in this soap opera shit?

"Nice hatty the other day," says Kent, after a bit longer. (Oh, okay, so that was just an awkward silence.) "Yeah. You've gotten to be one sneaky motherfucker, for a big guy." A pause. "Yeah, fine, I know." And then some shop talk that Swoops honestly can't follow in his current condition, one-sided or not, but that seems to go on for a long time.

"Are you only tolerating this because I fought a guy for you?" Kent asks bluntly. Then sighs, and Swoops can picture the grimace. Maybe it's creepy that he's still listening. "Not exactly how I wanted to start this conversation."

A few moments' pause. "Yeah, Troy" — Swoops startles for a moment to hear his name, like Kent's realized he's here — "said the same thing. Mashkov or someone."

The next pause is shorter. "I think I sort of do? Doesn't matter what they'd say, they'd still go for someone who talked shit about me. We're a team."

Kent laughs, a little, at whatever Zimmermann's just said. "Okay. Fine." Then, in a more serious tone, "You didn't have to lie for me, you know."

An exhale. "Yeah. Fine, you did. Thanks, Zimms." Swoops hasn't heard that nickname before. Jesus, he's too hung over to be processing what he thinks he's hearing. 

Another little laugh. "Everything's like hockey for you, isn't it?" A hesitation that someone who wasn't Kent's friend, who didn't know him well, might not notice — Swoops startles himself realizing that that's still true about him and Kent, even with this huge secret slowly dawning on him. "I miss you. Can I say that now? I didn't do it because I missed you, like, okay, at least everyone knows now that I'm important to you and shit, but I wasn't thinking about that. It wasn't a plan. I promise."

Swoops keeps on down the hallway to go get that aspirin. He's not a dumbass like Hutch or Scraps, so it's not like he's going to send a CONGRATULATIONS ON BEING GAY card or whatever they make. He'll keep it to himself, because he's a good teammate and a good friend. Keep playing the same way, and maybe if the captain ever decides to say anything, Swoops can be the friend that he thought Kent was being for Zimmermann.

As he comes back out of the bathroom he can hear Kent on the phone criticizing places to eat in Providence.


End file.
